He looks at the screen on the back, nods, and then comes over to show me the photo.
It’s me, but not as I know. It’s my dark wavy hair, loose around my shoulders, lit up by the sun. My brown eyes, glinting in the light, and even though I’m frowning, there’s no doubt, I look good.
I look up at him. ‘So what?’ I say.
‘I like photography because it captures things as they are. Not just beauty, but what’s inside. It’s a way of cementing what’s real. And you don’t look stupid, Selena, not at all. Those are the eyes of a smart person.’
He closes down the camera sharply. ‘Which is why I know you’re fucking with me. You may not be stupid, but you sure are annoying.’ He walks back over to the fence and hops across it. ‘The sun has now gone, so thanks for wasting my time. Mission accomplished.’ He crosses his arms and stares at me belligerently.
I meet his eyes. Smile. ‘I would say “take a picture, it’ll last longer”. But oh wait, you’ve already done that.’
And feeling pleased with the burning fury in his eyes, I turn around and head back into the house, exhilaration shooting through me.
Thirteen
At night
I lie awake in my bed
Remembering the words you said
And I wonder, with a twist
Do you remember me like this?
‘Midnight Musings’ fromDreamers
You’re going to try for tickets, right?’ I ask Ollie. It’s the first time I’ve managed to get hold of him on FaceTime since school started over a week ago. I miss talking to him every day, but once a week will do. He’s still my Ollie. I’ve grabbed him on a Wednesday evening, after school. It seems to be the only day he doesn’t have any after-school activities.
‘Of course,’ he says, with a million-watt smile that tugs at my every nerve. ‘It’s your favourite artist. I’ve registered. How could I not help my oldest friend in her quest?’
‘Okay, because this is a really big deal, and it’s in exactly two days, and I’m slightly panicking.’
‘You’ll be fine. You’ve got, like, ten people trying for you.’
‘It still might not work out,’ I say.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘You love Rose Conrad, surely that aloneshould go far.’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ I say impatiently. ‘Loads of people love Rose Conrad. She’s the biggest pop star in the world! But you’ll still try, right?’
‘Yes,’ he says, laughing. ‘Selena, how many times do I have to tell you?’
‘Have you met anyone in Manchester who loves Rose Conrad?’ I say.
‘Er,’ says Ollie thinking, and I immediately know the answer is no, otherwise they would have been talking about the ticket sale. ‘No, I don’t think so. The friends I’ve made are really into electronic music.’
‘What, EDM?’ I say, confused. Electro music to me sounds like noise. How am I meant to scream my heart out when there aren’t any lyrics?
‘Yeah, or DJs. I actually don’t mind it – it’s kinda soothing. I’ve started working to it.’
‘What? Since when have you been into electro?’ I say, dumbfounded.
For as long as I can remember, Ollie has loved indie and rock bands. Men singing about smoking cigarettes and swooning over their girlfriends who eventually break their hearts. When he was twelve he tried to dye his brown hair black in ode to his favourite band singer, Damien Dylan. I never let him live it down. I’ve tried to get him to listen to my music for years, but he always said he was set in his ways.
And now he’s listening toEDM?
‘I realised I needed to loosen up a bit. And my new friends, they’ve been helping me to realise that . . . well, I don’t need to be so uptight, I guess.’
